


What Are You So Afraid of?

by capedrobin



Series: I love you, don't I [2]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fights, Fluff, Halloween, M/M, Making Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 09:10:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16194494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capedrobin/pseuds/capedrobin
Summary: “C’mon, it’s Halloween!”“So? What do I care about that American nonsense?”“It’s for charity, Sergio. So don’t be such a spoilsport and hold still already. If you let me finish your makeup, I promise you’ll be the prettiest ghoul in town.”(Sequel to Not a Whimper, but a Bang)





	What Are You So Afraid of?

**Author's Note:**

> Got the idea from this challenge: https://footballkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1959.html

“C’mon, it’s Halloween!”

“So? What do I care about that American nonsense?”

“It’s for charity, Sergio. So don’t be such a spoilsport and hold still already. If you let me finish your makeup, I promise you’ll be the prettiest ghoul in town.”

Sergio pouted, but complied. He could feel himself bushing oh-so-slightly but was hoping he could count on the thick grey makeup to have his back.

“A charity Halloween ball. What gimmick will they rope us into next?”

“I don’t know, but this is one I’m more than happy to plaster on a reporter-friendly smile for.”

Sergio snorted. “Of course, you are. You live for the attention, don’t you?”

Gerard looked a little wounded and Sergio wished he hadn’t had said anything. “No, I don’t. I live for _fun_. And dressing up and scaring people shitless is fun.”

“You regard your own makeup skills rather highly, then.” Covered in a flat grey from head-to-toe, Sergio was pretty sure he looked like a fifth grader who’d been cast as the rock in a school play, more so than some spooky walking nightmare. 

“Hush now, I’m amazing.”

“Is that why you’re going as Jason Voorhees instead of submitting yourself to this?”

“I’m 1.94m, I have to take advantage of that, don’t I?” He said while smirking cheekily.

“Well, that’s convenient. Missing some bulk, though, wouldn’t you say, Jason?”

“I’ll paint your precious hair grey too, if you don’t watch it.”

Sergio laughed and shut his mouth. The hypnotic feeling of Gerard gently brushing over his face again and again was rather soothing, if he was being honest. He hummed softly.

Gerard soon broke the relaxing silence. “Besides…This is one of the few chances we’ll get to be together in public like this now that I’ve left La Selección, you know? Outside of the pitch.”

“Yeah, I know.” He wanted to point out that it’d been Gerard’s decision to leave the National Team in the first place, but bit his tongue. No need to rehash that fight; they’d had it enough times at the ranch. “It’ll be nice. But let’s keep the lovey-dovey stuff to a minimum, okay? I’m pretty sure some of the guys are starting to suspect something.” If all the innuendos they had been throwing his way were anything to go by, those fuckers probably somehow even knew the wedding date, by now.

Gerard’s previously sweet features hardened and the loving brushing stopped dead. Fuck, he’d screwed up again, hadn’t he?

“And why is that a problem, exactly?” His tone clearly implied that there was no correct answer to that question, but fuck it; Sergio was going to take a crack at it, anyway.

“Because,” he cleared his throat, “we’ve got a good thing going, right? Why complicate it?”

“Because relationships are complicated, Sergio.” Fear suddenly flashed through his beautiful face. “What, do you expect us to hide forever?”

Sergio rubbed at the back of his neck. “Well, maybe not _forever_. But until a few years after retirement, surely.”

Gerard looked stricken and Sergio had to refrain from stroking his cheek in comfort, as he had the feeling such a gesture wouldn’t be appreciated right this second.

“Years. You expect me to wait _years_?” He bit his lip. “Are you really that ashamed of me?”

“No!” Sergio jumped. He leaned in for a soothing kiss, but was predictably— and forcefully— shoved aside. “Geri, of course not—”

“What are you so afraid of, then?” He sounded desperate, but before Sergio could even think of a response, he closed off. “Never mind. We’re late anyway. Let’s get going.” His bright blue eyes were shining and Sergio felt like the biggest prick in the galaxy.

But they really were short on time, so he decided to drop it for now. Gerard would probably get over it, once all the dancing and the liquor proved to be more entertaining.

 

~  
The car ride over was a tense affair Sergio had to suffer through silently. However, when they got to the event (through the back door so as to avoid drawing attention to themselves) his spirits rose. The place looked _awesome_ ; it’d be impossible for Gerard not to enjoy himself here. The large dance hall was bathed entirely in an unnerving purple light and cobwebs covered every square inch. A toy skeleton lurked in a dark corner, maybe as a way of scaring away frisky couples, and frighteningly lifelike bats ominously hung from chandeliers. They’d really gone all out. What really finished it off, though, were the guests. Every monster that had ever hid in your closet could be seen killing it on the dance floor, shaking their ass to loud reggaeton music. Sergio smiled in disbelief. This was shaping up to be a memorable night, already.

He extended a hand over to Geri as an invitation to join all the other creeps and freaks getting their groove on. Nobody would take one dance between them to mean anything, Sergio was sure, especially since they were barely recognizable in their ridiculous getup. 

Gerard lifted the hockey mask from his face for the sole purpose of glaring at Sergio’s hand in dismissive disgust, slamming the mask back down, and walking away. So. Maybe it’d take a bit more for him to cool down, after all. Sergio sighed. He needed a drink.

As he made his way over to the bar, a camera flash caught his eye. His lips curled bitterly. Reporters. 

He ordered something strong. After bringing it to his lips, he spotted a grey half-circle left on the rim of the glass and snorted. He glanced back at the reporters snapping pictures. _They_ were the reason he was here drinking alone, instead of cracking jokes somewhere with Geri.

_What are you so afraid of?_

Gerard’s accusatory question had been ringing in his head since they’d left. He knew the answer now. _They_ were the answer. Practically since Sergio and Gerard had met, their relationship had been in part dictated by what the press said about them. That they didn’t get on, that there was bad blood between them, that they even downright _hated_ each other. This narrative wasn’t entirely a fabrication, but it was based off of wild exaggerations, for sure. Its falsehood, however, didn’t detract from its impact. Trying to get on with someone everybody was so convinced you hated could be rather uncomfortable for all involved. Even after eventually growing undeniably closer, endless clickbaity articles about the supposed ongoing war between them were still routinely pumped out by unimaginative vultures, desperate for ideas. 

Sergio was pretty numb to it, by this point, as he knew Gerard was as well. But the idea of coming clean about their relationship, of baring his heart out to the world, only to be met with more cynical and acidic skepticism was daunting. The press coverage of them would undoubtedly increase tenfold, and truthfully Sergio wasn’t yet secure enough in their still budding romance to know that they could weather it.

He sighed and downed his drink before a tap on his shoulder drew him away from his troubles. Smiling brightly behind him was Isco.

“Hey!” Sergio hugged him tightly, grateful for the friendly face, but paused with a perplexed up-and-down appraisal of his outfit. “What the hell are you supposed to be?”

Isco huffed. “I could ask you the same thing, you low-budget Ed Wood extra.”

Sergio grinned. “Point. But seriously, what’s going on here?” He gestured judgingly at his rather mundane plaid shirt and jeans.

“I was going for a lumberjack murderer, hence the ax,” he waved it around way too recklessly for comfort, “but ended up running pretty low on fake blood. So I’m dressed as a really lazy trick-or-treater, basically.”

Sergio burst out laughing. “Well, that’s making the most out of a bad situation, I guess.”

Isco ordered a drink and turned back to Sergio. “I ran into Piqué.” His tone was obnoxiously suggestive. Sergio bit back a groan. “You wanna go say hi?” The bastard was practically waggling his eyebrows.

“No, thank you.” He said pointedly. 

“I know you want to.” Isco sing-songed mischievously.

“I said drop it.”

Isco made a face, but relented.

They soon got caught up in making sassy evaluations of different guests’ costumes, an activity which regularly devolved into childish giggles, and Sergio’s relationship woes drifted out of mind. That is until their judgmental gaze landed upon his boyfriend, who was hanging out with a vampire Jordi Alba. 

“What do you think of Gerard’s Jason?” asked Isco.

“Low-effort.” Sergio was hoping that would cut it, but at that moment the lights were abruptly killed. The whole room tensed. Before anyone could ask what was going on, a swarm of bats sprung the fuck out of nowhere in a violent swirl that entrapped petrified guests. Sergio’s heart jumped up his throat even as he realized it was all part of a show. He could even see the animal trainer out of the corner of his eye, but it made no difference as the surge of adrenaline was all too real.

Gerard was having a similar reaction, as he gathered by the comical sight of Giant Geri jumping into the arms of Bite-Sized Jordi Alba. Sergio’s first reaction was to laugh, but before he could, something started to gnaw at him. Here he was, purposefully avoiding the man he loved, because he was afraid of some pesky journalists. Effectively, giving into them by altering his actions as a result of their libel. It could be his arms Gerard was in, right now. And really, he decided on the spot, there was no reason for them not to be.

He walked over to the two culés with determination. As Gerard was cued into his presence by Jordi nodding his way, his face grew cold. _Not for long._

Sergio looked right into Geri’s pretty eyes, placed his hands on his strong jaw, and kissed him passionately on the mouth for all to see. Footballers, reporters, the lot of them. He didn’t care anymore. They were going to be happy together, and _nobody_ would stop them. Hell, Sergio would like to see them try.

As they kissed, his ears picked up on the expected gasps, and maybe even a few whoops from smug teammates. Gerard and Sergio ignored them.

When they eventually pulled apart, Gerard, breathless and giddy, asked, “What was _that_ about?”

Sergio ignored a bright camera flash to his right. “That shit was spooky. I needed the comfort.” He gave Gerard his most charming smile. “And I guess I fear bats more than intimacy.” 

Geri laughed and pecked him again. “In that case, are you going to be benched the next time you play Valencia?”

Sergio shut him up with another deep kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't originally intend this to be continuation of Not A Whimper, but while writing it I realized it fit.  
> Also, I appreciate comments :)


End file.
